


With My Whole Heart

by ToxicBabes



Series: Tales of Apartment 8H [9]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Cabin Fic, Dreams, Established Relationship, Gardens & Gardening, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: It’s rare when Maxim has a peaceful dream. When he does, it’s blissful.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Glazkov
Series: Tales of Apartment 8H [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705774
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	With My Whole Heart

**Author's Note:**

> There's nothing spicy about this fic, but it contains a very vague reference to sex and I wasn't exactly sure where it would lie within the ratings so I classified it as Mature to be safe. I wrote this because I had a really strong image in my head of Maxim doing some gardening and I always headcanon that his ultimate dream is to go off the grid and live in a cabin. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

In the summer, the floor of the cabin grew pleasant under the sunshine. A hearty scent filled the air, the rich wood to the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Maxim recognised the course of events to be a particular fantasy that blessed him once in a while. The bed was empty, but he knew where Timur was. Rising to his feet, his soles didn’t press against the coldness he expected, instead greeted by a gentle warmth. 

Once he cleaned himself up, he stepped into the atrium of the cabin. Timur’s back was turned, distracted by the view from the window that he didn’t notice as Maxim approached with light steps. He pounced once he was close enough, enveloping Timur’s muscular body within his arms and he attacked his neck with a dozen kisses, being sure to graze the sensitive skin with his stubble. 

Timur relaxed into his touch and suppressed his laughter at the ticklish sensation. He closed his eyes as he accepted the affection, content in Maxim’s tight embrace and he turned his head to meet his lips, a light kiss in greeting. “Morning,” he murmured and shifted around to face Maxim. 

A small grin brightened Timur’s expression, the endearing kind where blue eyes glinted under the soft sunlight and Maxim could hardly contain the desire to kiss him once more. So he did, he kissed him tenderly and caressed his cheek. Timur didn’t question it, instead returning these actions with twice the love and he overwhelmed Maxim with the playful pecks along his jawline. Instead of trying to resist, Maxim allowed it to happen and he found himself smiling, basking in the intimacy that made him feel whole. They exchanged fond looks before Maxim let him go to fix themselves breakfast.

Was it breakfast? Sometimes he found himself in the kitchen to begin with, other days he was returning from checking the rabbit traps. Regardless of what meal it was, he was cooking something hearty for Timur and providing for him. Though considering he was cracking two eggs into the hot cast iron, sunny-side up the way Timur loved them, Maxim figured they were beginning their morning.

Time was never an issue in his dreams. There were no clocks or watches to pressure him into carefully managing his hours in fear of wasting daylight. He was unaware of the passage of time, it wasn’t clear if it even existed in these instances constructed by his mind. 

They ate breakfast at their own pace and had an enthusiastic conversation about a topic which slipped past his mind. Maxim couldn’t recall what it was about, but he remembered reading Timur’s expression and adoring the sight of his passion, how his excitement spilled over the brim and the way he stumbled over his thoughts, disjointed and abstract. 

Never in Maxim’s life had he considered he could be a lovesick fool, he liked to think of himself as a logical person. Though with Timur, he threw all reasoning out the window and he didn’t hesitate for a moment to devote his entire attention to this man. He’d give anything for Timur. For a person like Maxim, this was an extreme truth and he wasn’t accustomed to this level of commitment, but he had fallen too deep now. It wasn’t a mere case of being six feet too deep and unable to escape his feelings. He managed to burrow down to the burning core of what he felt for Timur. All the emotional desire, melting together with lust and yearning, so incredibly deadly yet he gave into it, wishing to be consumed by love. 

Unlike his reality, in this dream they never spent evenings in search for a movie or a documentary to watch. Time didn’t seem to exist, but there wasn’t a passing moment where they were bored. The daylight lasted and they ventured into their small garden. 

A light breeze kept them cool. While Timur tended to the chickens and scattered the feed across their enclosure, Maxim checked on their vegetable patch. The tomatoes were coming in finely this year, showing no sign of damage from pesky birds and they were ready to be picked. Green leaves of carrots and potatoes swayed under the gust, growing grander by the day. After assessing the vegetables and noting what would go well with tonight’s dinner, Maxim checked on their small row of strawberry plants. 

He plucked one from the truss and dusted it off before tasting it. To his surprise, they were pleasantly sweet, unlike their usual batch of sour strawberries that were almost painful to eat. Maxim picked a large one and cleaned it, making sure there were no strange bruises or marks on it. He approached Timur and presented him with the fruit. It wasn’t the most impressive gift, but Timur was still surprised by the sheer size of it and he hesitated to eat it as if it were a rare specimen.

There was something comforting about watching one’s lover enjoy a sweet treat. Maxim smiled back at him, invigorated by a fluttering sense of fulfilment at such a simple sight. If it meant for the pleasure of watching the satisfaction bloom across his face, Maxim would grow the rarest fruits in the world for him.

They collected a hefty yield of strawberries, some to be made into jam, others to be snacked on. With the basket full, Maxim moved onto harvesting some potatoes and carrots for later. He dug the trowel into the earth and dislodged all the loose dirt of their plot. Though his patience wore thin and he abandoned the tool, opting to use his hands to pull out the vegetables. He searched the ground for any stray potatoes and the fertile earth crumbled between his fingers, perfectly aerated for optimal growth. For a moment he admired the quality of the soil, finding a strange satisfaction in getting his hands dirty. 

There was all this space still unused. He considered growing some sunflowers or daffodils, something to liven up the scenery. As he contemplated, he didn’t notice Timur’s presence until strong arms snaked around his torso and Timur pressed a light kiss against his cheek. Together they looked towards the forest lining the perimeter of their property where the growth almost spilled over the old wire fences, the shade encroaching upon the cabin and its little garden. 

Timur stared at him, taking in his peaceful expression before he reached to wipe away the speckles of dirt on his face. “You’re all sweaty,” he teased softly and brushed back Maxim’s hair from his forehead, fingers grazing the sharp corners of a maturing hairline. 

The contact made Maxim look at him with an apprehensive expression. “Is it bad?” He asked and hoped to receive an honest answer. 

At first, Timur didn’t understand the question, then it struck him and he couldn’t hide his grin. Humming under his breath, he studied his hairline some more, the pad of his index finger tracing over Maxim’s temples where his hair was beginning to grow coarse and grey. “No, it’s hardly receding,” he noted and laughed when Maxim raised a brow in doubt. “If you keep stressing about it, your hair will actually fall out. And I’ll still love you either way.”

The sentimental statement drew a humorous exhale from Maxim and he thought about it some more, but the insecurity didn’t last long. He didn’t recall the series of events that led to him standing over the cutting board in the kitchen, a knife in hand to prepare a skinned rabbit. The interaction in the garden felt like a memory, both distant yet also close like it had just occurred, but it was night now and the wind howled against the thin windows. 

He glanced over to check on Timur, seeing he was almost finished peeling the potatoes. The process of cooking dinner didn’t quite stand out to Maxim, only the ticklish breath from Timur who hovered over his shoulder to watch. Maxim’s cooking wasn’t particularly complex. He wasn’t going to find himself a job as a chef anytime soon, though his skills were competent. Simple flavours were impossible to mess up and for Timur, they reminded him of home. 

The cooling night left the cabin in a draughty but pleasant state. It didn’t demand the need to fire up the furnace, sitting just at the brink of being too cold. Maxim liked it this way, the sensation of the air against his bare skin as he rested in the aftermath of an orgasm. The remnants of his lust died down long ago like settling embers. The surface of his skin grew cold, though internally he still felt as if he was burning and the contact of Timur’s palm against his stomach was too much. Maxim didn’t move away. He let the touch melt into his flesh.

He cast a weary look towards Timur, meeting his gentle gaze. They didn’t speak for the longest time, content in a silence only punctuated by their steadying breaths. The veins on Timur’s hands were prominent and the pad of his thumb rubbed over the ridge of an old scar, brushing the hairs on Maxim’s abdomen. The hand moved upwards, steadily so until it settled against the top of Maxim’s sternum. There were no dog tags around his neck, no icy metal to remind him of his occupation- his life. Was he still a soldier in this dream? 

It didn’t matter, the thought never held his attention long enough. His eyes followed the raised paths of pale blue veins running along sinewy forearms and he admired the contours of Timur’s muscles. He was built sturdy and broad, from defined biceps to his toned thighs, there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t exude a kind of masculinity that Maxim wasn’t wholly struck by. The more he stared, the more he came to appreciate the male form. It wasn’t of Maxim’s vernacular, but he would be damned if he wouldn’t call it beautiful.

He reached up to feel the hairs of Timur’s forearm. The skin was soft, but he could feel the rigid tendons on the underside. As he came to take Timur’s arm into his hold, the younger man shifted closer to press his side against Maxim’s, sharing his heat with him. The weight of Timur’s lax body brought Maxim a level of relief that nothing else could ever provide. It was one of the many things that couldn’t be replicated. 

They fell into place with one another in such natural formation. Limbs became entangled, but they were arranged in an intricate way to fulfil their desire for touch without any discomfort. Maxim didn’t feel the need for their duvet, he enjoyed the way Timur’s arms enveloped his torso in a snug manner. As the evening closed in, Timur would find himself almost atop of Maxim, finding solace in the crook of his neck. In return, Maxim was soothed by the heaviness that made it almost hard to breathe.

The tranquillity made him wish he could never wake up. To own a remote cabin, harvest the fruits of the land and raise a small flock of chickens, to love without worry or fear of impending tragedy. Not once did Maxim think of the universe around him, he was able to focus on _his_ world and enjoy its finer pleasures. 

Though his reality awaited him, the real world rife with imperfections. Maxim wasn’t intimidated by it, he knew he had the strength to endure what awaited him. In the cases where every odd would be against him and he would cower under the weight of the world on his shoulders, he knew he wasn’t alone in his struggle. He had Timur by his side to reassure him when he would doubt himself. 

Waking up didn’t seem so daunting now.

Either way, Maxim was wading out of his dream, almost able to reach a state of wakefulness that seemed both light years away and hairs from his grasp. He blinked several times at the ceiling, finding the room too bright. The curtains had been drawn, therefore Timur woke up long ago, yet Maxim noted the warmth surrounding his body and he looked down to meet the dim glow of Timur’s phone.

With the side of his face pressed against Maxim’s chest, there was Timur. He smiled up at him and lowered his phone as he shifted his attention. “Good afternoon.” 

Hardly awake, Maxim didn’t respond right away. His lips were dry to the point that they felt fused shut by the thick saliva in his mouth and he swallowed, trying to dispel the sensation. A slight restlessness returned to him, the cravings for nicotine, but he didn’t want to get up yet. The memory of his dream was fading faster than he realised, slipping by him before he could make the conscious decision to note every detail of it. Now it was lost to the recesses of his mind and by chance he would be able to relive it again, but all he had of it was the overwhelming feeling of wholeness. 

Timur’s gaze shifted from a playful look to one of fondness. He touched Maxim’s face to fully appreciate his sleepy expression. “Were you dreaming?” He asked, sensing the thoughts churning around in his head.

Maxim didn’t register the question. He closed his eyes for a moment before the shuffling of something moving around on the duvet woke him up again. A little invader, their kitten invading to participate in their conversation. He accommodated Koshka into the crook of his arm, cradling her gently. 

This was all he needed, really. A cabin in the middle of nowhere would be nice, but this rundown apartment in England was good enough. He drew a deep breath and filled his lungs with the scent of Timur’s deodorant, barely fighting back the urge to fall asleep again. Though the desire to drown Timur in affection overcame Maxim, he burrowed his nose into Timur’s hair. A wave of comforting hormones surged through him, streaming down to the fingertips and fleeting across his chest to remind him once more of what he felt for Timur. An elating sensation, one which Maxim attributed to his lover so intensely.

“I dreamed of you,” he told him in a croaky mumble, his voice hoarse as always from waking up.

“Of me?”

He hummed and smiled at the surprised look on Timur’s face, the way he raised his gaze with attentiveness. “And I love you,” Maxim added, amused to see the confusion at the sudden proclamation of love. It left Timur wondering what he was doing in the dream to elicit such a response and he blinked back at him, touched by the admission. What he would never know was that nothing special happened in the dream, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary or rare, just the simple act of being with one another.

Unsure of what to do, Timur gave a confused chuckle. A smile bloomed across his expression and he shifted to press a kiss onto Maxim’s forehead. The contact was blissful. They could do this all day, but it seemed Timur was waiting for him to wake up. He got out of bed and stretched his cramped muscles, the hem of his T-shirt rising a couple inches to reveal the contours of his abdominal muscles and Maxim drank up the view. 

“I’ll go make your coffee,” he offered, assuming this was what Maxim wanted. In this very moment, Maxim didn’t have any burning desire for anything specific, but coffee did sound good.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


End file.
